浣犲緱鎵懼嚭浣犵埍鐨?(You've got to find what you love.)
Steve Jobs鍦?005騫?鏈?2鏃ュ鍏ㄤ綋鍙蹭腹浣涘ぇ瀛︽瘯涓氱敓鐨勬紨璁插唴瀹廣?nbsp;
浠婂ぉ錛屾湁鑽ｅ垢鏉ュ埌鍚勪綅浠庝笘鐣屼笂鏈濂界殑瀛︽牎涔嬩竴姣曚笟鐨勬瘯涓氬吀紺間笂銆?nbsp;
鎴戜粠鏉ユ病浠庡ぇ瀛︽瘯涓氥傝瀹炶瘽錛岃繖鏄垜紱誨ぇ瀛︽瘯涓氭渶榪戠殑涓鍒匯?nbsp;
浠婂ぉ錛屾垜鍙涓変釜鏁呬簨錛屼笉璋堝ぇ閬撶悊錛屼笁涓晠浜嬪氨濂姐?nbsp;
絎竴涓晠浜嬶紝鏄叧浜庝漢鐢熶腑鐨勭偣鐐規淮婊存庝箞涓茶繛鍦ㄤ竴璧楓?nbsp;
鎴戝湪閲屽痙瀛﹂櫌錛圧eedcollege錛夊緟浜嗗叚涓湀灝卞姙浼戝浜嗐傚埌鎴戦瀛﹀墠錛屼竴鍏變紤瀛︿簡鍗佸叓涓湀銆傞偅涔堬紝鎴戜負浠涔堜紤瀛︼紵
榪欏緱浠庢垜鍑虹敓鍓嶈璧楓傛垜鐨勪翰鐢熸瘝浜插綋鏃舵槸涓爺絀剁敓錛屽勾杞繪湭濠氬濡堬紝濂瑰喅瀹氳鍒漢鏀跺吇鎴戙傚ス寮虹儓瑙夊緱搴旇璁╂湁澶у姣曚笟鐨勪漢鏀跺吇鎴戯紝鎵浠ユ垜鍑虹敓鏃訛紝濂瑰氨鍑嗗璁╂垜琚竴瀵瑰緥甯堝か濡囨敹鍏匯備絾鏄繖瀵瑰か濡誨埌浜嗘渶鍚庝竴鍒誨弽鎮斾簡錛屼粬浠兂鏀跺吇濂沖銆傛墍浠ュ湪絳夊緟鏀跺吇鍚嶅崟涓婄殑涓瀵瑰か濡伙紝鎴戠殑鍏葷埗姣嶏紝鍦ㄤ竴澶╁崐澶滈噷鎺ュ埌涓閫氱數璇濓紝闂粬浠屾湁涓鍚嶆剰澶栧嚭鐢熺殑鐢峰錛屼綘浠璁ゅ吇浠栧悧錛熴嶈屼粬浠殑鍥炵瓟鏄屽綋鐒惰銆嶃傚悗鏉ワ紝鎴戠殑鐢熸瘝鍙戠幇錛屾垜鐜板湪鐨勫濡堜粠鏉ユ病鏈夊ぇ瀛︽瘯涓氾紝鎴戠幇鍦ㄧ殑鐖哥埜鍒欒繛楂樹腑姣曚笟涔熸病鏈夈傚ス鎷掔粷鍦ㄨ鍏繪枃浠朵笂鍋氭渶鍚庣瀛椼傜洿鍒板嚑涓湀鍚庯紝鎴戠殑鍏葷埗姣嶅悓鎰忓皢鏉ヤ竴瀹氫細璁╂垜涓婂ぇ瀛︼紝濂規墠杞寲鎬佸害銆?nbsp;
鍗佷竷騫村悗錛屾垜涓婂ぇ瀛︿簡銆備絾鏄綋鏃舵垜鏃犵煡閫変簡涓鎵瀛﹁垂鍑犱箮璺熷彶涓逛經涓鏍瘋吹鐨勫ぇ瀛︼紝鎴戦偅宸ヤ漢闃剁駭鐨勭埗姣嶆墍鏈夌Н钃勯兘鑺卞湪鎴戠殑瀛﹁垂涓娿傚叚涓湀鍚庯紝鎴戠湅涓嶅嚭蹇佃繖涓功鐨勪環鍊間綍鍦ㄣ傞偅鏃跺欙紝鎴戜笉鐭ラ亾榪欒緢瀛愯騫蹭粈涔堬紝涔熶笉鐭ラ亾蹇靛ぇ瀛﹁兘瀵規垜鏈変粈涔堝府鍔╋紝鑰屼笖鎴戜負浜嗗康榪欎釜涔︼紝
鑺卞厜浜嗘垜鐖舵瘝榪欒緢瀛愮殑鎵鏈夌Н钃勶紝鎵浠ユ垜鍐沖畾浼戝錛岀浉淇¤埞鍒版ˉ澶磋嚜鐒剁洿銆傚綋鏃惰繖涓喅瀹氱湅鏉ョ浉褰撳彲鎬曪紝鍙槸鐜板湪鐪嬫潵錛岄偅鏄垜榪欒緢瀛愬仛榪囨渶濂界殑鍐沖畾涔嬩竴銆傚綋鎴戜紤瀛︿箣鍚庯紝鎴戝啀涔熶笉鐢ㄤ笂鎴戞病鍏磋叮鐨勫繀淇錛屾妸鏃墮棿鎷垮幓鍚偅浜涙垜鏈夊叴瓚ｇ殑璇俱傝繖涓鐐逛篃涓嶆氮婕傛垜娌℃湁瀹胯垗錛屾墍浠ユ垜鐫″湪鍙嬩漢瀹墮噷鐨勫湴鏉夸笂錛岄潬鐫鍥炴敹鍙箰絀虹綈鐨勪簲鍏堜護閫璐逛拱鍚冪殑錛屾瘡涓槦鏈熷ぉ鏅氫笂寰楄蛋涓冨摡鐨勮礬緇曡繃澶у崐涓晣鍘誨嵃搴︽暀鐨凥are Krishna 紲炲簷鍚冮】濂芥枡銆傛垜鍠滄HareKrishna紲炲簷鐨勫ソ鏂欍傝拷瀵繪垜鐨勫ソ濂囦笌鐩磋錛屾垜鎵椹昏凍鐨勫ぇ閮ㄥ垎浜嬬墿錛屽悗鏉ョ湅鏉ラ兘鎴愪簡鏃犱環涔嬪疂銆?nbsp;
涓句緥鏉ヨ錛?nbsp;
褰撴椂閲屽痙瀛﹂櫌鏈夌潃澶ф鏄叏鍥芥渶濂界殑涔︽硶鎸囧銆傚湪鏁翠釜鏍″洯鍐呯殑姣忎竴寮犳搗鎶ヤ笂錛屾瘡涓娊灞夌殑鏍囩涓婏紝閮芥槸緹庝附鐨勬墜鍐欏瓧銆傚洜涓烘垜浼戝浜嗭紝鍙互涓嶇収姝ｅ父閫夎紼嬪簭鏉ワ紝鎵浠ユ垜璺戝幓瀛︿功娉曘傛垜瀛︿簡serif 涓巗an serif 瀛椾綋錛屽鍒板湪涓嶅悓瀛楁瘝緇勫悎闂村彉鏇村瓧闂磋窛錛屽鍒版椿鐗堝嵃鍒蜂紵澶х殑鍦版柟銆備功娉曠殑緹庡ソ銆佸巻鍙叉劅涓庤壓鏈劅鏄瀛︽墍鏃犳硶鎹曟崏鐨勶紝鎴戣寰楅偅寰堣糠浜恒傛垜娌￠鏈熻繃瀛︾殑榪欎簺涓滆タ鑳藉湪鎴戠敓媧諱腑璧蜂簺浠涔堝疄闄呬綔鐢紝涓嶈繃鍗佸勾鍚庯紝褰撴垜鍦ㄨ璁＄涓鍙伴害閲戝鏃訛紝鎴戞兂璧蜂簡褰撴椂鎵瀛︾殑涓滆タ錛屾墍浠ユ妸榪欎簺涓滆タ閮借璁¤繘浜嗛害閲戝閲岋紝榪欐槸絎竴鍙拌兘鍗板埛鍑烘紓浜笢瑗跨殑璁＄畻鏈恒傚鏋滄垜娌℃矇婧轟簬閭ｆ牱涓闂ㄨ閲岋紝楹﹂噾濉斿彲鑳藉氨涓嶄細鏈夊閲嶅瓧浣撹窡鍙橀棿璺濆瓧浣撲簡銆傚張鍥犱負Windows鎶勮浜嗛害閲戝鐨勪嬌鐢ㄦ柟寮忥紝濡傛灉褰撳勾鎴戞病榪欐牱鍋氾紝澶ф涓栫晫涓婃墍鏈夌殑涓漢璁＄畻鏈洪兘涓嶄細鏈夎繖浜涗笢瑗匡紝鍗頒笉鍑虹幇鍦ㄦ垜浠湅鍒扮殑婕備寒鐨勫瓧鏉ヤ簡銆傚綋鐒訛紝褰撴垜榪樺湪澶у閲屾椂錛屼笉鍙兘鎶婅繖浜涚偣鐐規淮婊撮鍏堜覆鍦ㄤ竴璧鳳紝浣嗘槸榪欏湪鍗佸勾鍚庡洖欏撅紝灝辨樉寰楅潪甯告竻妤氥傛垜鍐嶈涓嬈★紝浣犱笉鑳介鍏堟妸鐐圭偣婊存淮涓插湪涓璧鳳紱鍞湁鏈潵鍥為【鏃訛紝浣犳墠浼氭槑鐧介偅浜涚偣鐐規淮婊存槸濡備綍涓插湪涓璧風殑銆?nbsp;
鎵浠ヤ綘寰楃浉淇★紝浣犵幇鍦ㄦ墍浣撲細鐨勪笢瑗匡紝灝嗘潵澶氬皯浼氳繛鎺ュ湪涓鍧椼備綘寰椾俊浠繪煇涓笢瑗匡紝鐩磋涔熷ソ錛屽懡榪愪篃濂斤紝鐢熷懡涔熷ソ錛屾垨鑰呬笟鍔涖傝繖縐嶄綔娉曚粠鏉ユ病璁╂垜澶辨湜錛屼篃璁╂垜鐨勪漢鐢熸暣涓笉鍚岃搗鏉ャ?nbsp;
鎴戠殑絎簩涓晠浜嬶紝鏈夊叧鐖變笌澶卞幓銆?nbsp;
鎴戝ソ榪愶紞騫磋交鏃跺氨鍙戠幇鑷繁鐖卞仛浠涔堜簨銆傛垜浜屽崄宀佹椂錛岃窡Steve Wozniak鍦ㄦ垜鐖稿鐨勮濺搴撻噷寮濮嬩簡鑻規灉璁＄畻鏈虹殑浜嬩笟銆傛垜浠嫾鍛藉伐浣滐紝鑻規灉璁＄畻鏈哄湪鍗佸勾闂翠粠涓闂磋濺搴撻噷鐨勪袱涓皬浼欏瓙鎵╁睍鎴愪簡涓瀹跺憳宸ヨ秴榪囧洓鍗冧漢銆佸競浠蜂簩鍗佷嚎緹庨噾鐨勫叕鍙革紝鍦ㄩ偅涔嬪墠涓騫存帹鍑轟簡鎴戜滑鏈媯掔殑浣滃搧錛嶉害閲戝錛岃屾垜鎵嶅垰榪堝叆浜虹敓鐨勭涓夊崄涓勾澶達紝鐒跺悗琚倰楸塊奔銆?nbsp;
璁╄嚜宸卞垱鍔炵殑鍏徃鐐掕嚜宸遍笨楸鹼紵
濂藉惂錛屽綋鑻規灉璁＄畻鏈烘垚闀垮悗錛屾垜璇蜂簡涓涓垜浠ヤ負浠栧湪緇忚惀鍏徃涓婂緢鏈夋墠騫茬殑瀹朵紮鏉ワ紝浠栧湪澶村嚑騫翠篃紜疄騫插緱涓嶉敊銆傚彲鏄垜浠鏈潵鐨勬効鏅笉鍚岋紝鏈鍚庡彧濂藉垎閬撴壃闀籌紝钁ｄ簨浼氱珯鍦ㄤ粬閭ｈ竟錛岀倰浜嗘垜楸塊奔錛屽叕寮鎶婃垜璇蜂簡鍑哄幓銆傛浘緇忔槸鎴戞暣涓垚騫寸敓媧婚噸蹇冪殑涓滆タ涓嶈浜嗭紝浠ゆ垜涓嶇煡鎵鎺傛湁鍑犱釜鏈堬紝鎴戝疄鍦ㄤ笉鐭ラ亾瑕佸共浠涔堝ソ銆傛垜瑙夊緱鎴戜護浼佷笟鐣岀殑鍓嶈緢浠け鏈涳紞鎴戞妸浠栦滑浜ょ粰鎴戠殑鎺ュ姏媯掑紕涓簡銆傛垜瑙佷簡鍒涘姙HP鐨凞avid Packard璺熷垱鍔濱ntel鐨凚ob Noyce錛岃窡浠栦滑璇存垜寰堟姳姝夋妸浜嬫儏鎼炵牳寰楀緢鍘夊浜嗐傛垜鎴愪簡鍏紬鐨勯潪甯歌礋闈㈢ず鑼冿紝鎴戠敋鑷蟲兂瑕佺寮紜呰胺銆備絾鏄笎娓愮殑錛屾垜鍙戠幇錛屾垜榪樻槸鍠滅埍鐫鎴戝仛榪囩殑浜嬫儏錛屽湪鑻規灉鐨勬棩瀛愮粡鍘嗙殑浜嬩歡娌℃湁涓濇鏀瑰彉鎴戠埍鍋氱殑浜嬨傛垜琚惁瀹氫簡錛屽彲鏄垜榪樻槸鐖卞仛閭ｄ簺浜嬫儏錛屾墍浠ユ垜鍐沖畾浠庡ご鏉ヨ繃銆?nbsp;
褰撴椂鎴戞病鍙戠幇錛屼絾鏄幇鍦ㄧ湅鏉ワ紝琚嫻鏋滆綆楁満寮闄わ紝鏄垜鎵緇忓巻榪囨渶濂界殑浜嬫儏銆傛垚鍔熺殑娌夐噸琚粠澶存潵榪囩殑杞繪澗鎵鍙栦唬錛屾瘡浠朵簨鎯呴兘涓嶉偅涔堢‘瀹氾紝璁╂垜鑷敱榪涘叆榪欒緢瀛愭渶鏈夊垱鎰忕殑騫翠唬銆傛帴涓嬫潵浜斿勾錛屾垜寮浜嗕竴瀹跺彨鍋?NeXT鐨勫叕鍙革紝鍙堝紑涓瀹跺彨鍋歅ixar鐨勫叕鍙革紝涔熻窡鍚庢潵鐨勮佸﹩璋堣搗浜嗘亱鐖便侾ixar鎺ョ潃鍒朵綔浜嗕笘鐣屼笂絎竴閮ㄥ叏璁＄畻鏈哄姩鐢葷數褰憋紝鐜╁叿鎬誨姩鍛橈紝鐜板湪鏄笘鐣屼笂鏈鎴愬姛鐨勫姩鐢誨埗浣滃叕鍙搞傜劧鍚庯紝鑻規灉璁＄畻鏈轟拱涓嬩簡NeXT錛屾垜鍥炲埌浜嗚嫻鏋滐紝鎴戜滑鍦∟eXT鍙戝睍鐨勬妧鏈垚浜嗚嫻鏋滆綆楁満鍚庢潵澶嶅叴鐨勬牳蹇冦傛垜涔熸湁浜嗕釜緹庡鐨勫搴?nbsp;
鎴戝緢紜畾錛屽鏋滃綋騫磋嫻鏋滆綆楁満娌″紑闄ゆ垜錛屽氨涓嶄細鍙戠敓榪欎簺浜嬫儏銆傝繖甯栬嵂寰堣嫤鍙ｏ紝鍙槸鎴戞兂鑻規灉璁＄畻鏈鴻繖涓梾浜洪渶瑕佽繖甯栬嵂銆傛湁鏃跺欙紝浜虹敓浼氱敤鐮栧ご鎵撲綘鐨勫ご銆備笉瑕佷撫澶變俊蹇冦傛垜紜俊錛屾垜鐖辨垜鎵鍋氱殑浜嬫儏錛岃繖灝辨槸榪欎簺騫存潵璁╂垜緇х畫璧頒笅鍘葷殑鍞竴鐞嗙敱銆備綘寰楁壘鍑轟綘鐖辯殑錛屽伐浣滀笂鏄姝わ紝瀵規儏浜轟篃鏄姝ゃ?nbsp;
浣犵殑宸ヤ綔灝嗗～婊′綘鐨勪竴澶у潡浜虹敓錛屽敮涓鑾峰緱鐪熸婊¤凍鐨勬柟娉曞氨鏄仛浣犵浉淇℃槸浼熷ぇ鐨勫伐浣滐紝鑰屽敮涓鍋氫紵澶у伐浣滅殑鏂規硶鏄埍浣犳墍鍋氱殑浜嬨傚鏋滀綘榪樻病鎵懼埌榪欎簺浜嬶紝緇х畫鎵撅紝鍒仠欏褲傚敖浣犲叏蹇冨叏鍔涳紝浣犵煡閬撲綘涓瀹氫細鎵懼埌銆傝屼笖錛屽鍚屼換浣曚紵澶х殑鍏崇郴錛屼簨鎯呭彧浼氶殢鐫鏃墮棿鎰堟潵鎰堝ソ銆?nbsp;
鎵浠ワ紝鍦ㄤ綘鎵懼埌涔嬪墠錛岀戶緇壘錛屽埆鍋滈】銆?nbsp;
鎴戠殑絎笁涓晠浜嬶紝鍏充簬姝諱骸銆?nbsp;
褰撴垜鍗佷竷宀佹椂錛屾垜璇誨埌涓鍒欐牸璦錛屽ソ鍍忔槸銆屾妸姣忎竴澶╅兘褰撴垚鐢熷懡涓殑鏈鍚庝竴澶╋紝浣犲氨浼氳交鏉捐嚜鍦ㄣ傘嶈繖瀵規垜褰卞搷娣辮繙錛屽湪榪囧幓33騫撮噷錛屾垜姣忓ぉ鏃╀笂閮戒細鐓ч暅瀛愶紝鑷棶錛氥屽鏋滀粖澶╂槸姝ょ敓鏈鍚庝竴鏃ワ紝鎴戜粖澶╄騫蹭簺浠涔堬紵銆嶆瘡褰撴垜榪炵畫澶澶╅兘寰楀埌涓涓屾病浜嬪仛銆嶇殑絳旀鏃訛紝鎴戝氨鐭ラ亾鎴戝繀欏繪湁鎵鍙橀潻浜嗐傛彁閱掕嚜宸卞揩姝諱簡錛屾槸鎴戝湪浜虹敓涓笅閲嶅ぇ鍐沖畾鏃訛紝鎵鐢ㄨ繃鏈閲嶈鐨勫伐鍏楓傚洜涓哄嚑涔庢瘡浠朵簨錛嶆墍鏈夊鐣屾湡鏈涖佹墍鏈夊悕瑾夈佹墍鏈夊鍥扮獦鎴栧け璐ョ殑鎭愭儳錛嶅湪闈㈠姝諱骸鏃訛紝閮芥秷澶變簡錛屽彧鏈夋渶閲嶈鐨勪笢瑗挎墠浼氱暀涓嬨傛彁閱掕嚜宸卞揩姝諱簡錛屾槸鎴戞墍鐭ラ伩鍏嶆帀鍏ヨ嚜宸辨湁涓滆タ瑕佸け鍘諱簡鐨勯櫡闃遍噷鏈濂界殑鏂規硶銆?nbsp;
浜虹敓涓嶅甫鏉ワ紝姝諱笉甯﹀幓錛屾病浠涔堥亾鐞嗕笉欏哄績鑰屼負銆?nbsp;
涓騫村墠錛屾垜琚瘖鏂嚭鐧岀棁銆傛垜鍦ㄦ棭涓婁竷鐐瑰崐浣滄柇灞傛壂鎻忥紝鍦ㄨ儼鑴忔竻妤氬嚭鐜頒竴涓偪鐦わ紝鎴戣繛鑳拌剰鏄粈涔堥兘涓嶇煡閬撱傚尰鐢熷憡璇夋垜錛岄偅鍑犱箮鍙互紜畾鏄竴縐嶄笉娌諱箣鐥囷紝鎴戝ぇ姒傛椿涓嶅埌涓夊埌鍏釜鏈堜簡銆傚尰鐢熷緩璁垜鍥炲錛屽ソ濂借窡浜蹭漢浠仛涓鑱氾紝榪欐槸鍖葷敓瀵逛復緇堢梾浜虹殑鏍囧噯寤鴻銆傞偅浠ｈ〃浣犲緱璇曠潃鍦ㄥ嚑涓湀鍐呮妸浣犲皢鏉ュ崄騫存兂璺熷皬瀛╄鐨勮瘽璁插畬銆傞偅浠ｈ〃浣犲緱鎶婃瘡浠朵簨鎯呮悶瀹氾紝瀹朵漢鎵嶄細灝介噺杞繪澗銆傞偅浠ｈ〃浣犲緱璺熶漢璇村啀瑙佷簡銆傛垜鏁村ぉ鎯崇潃閭ｄ釜璇婃柇緇撴灉錛岄偅澶╂櫄涓婂仛浜嗕竴嬈″垏鐗囷紝浠庡枆鍜欎幾鍏ヤ竴涓唴瑙嗛暅錛屼粠鑳冭繘鑲犲瓙錛屾彃浜嗘牴閽堣繘鑳拌剰錛屽彇浜嗕竴浜涜偪鐦ょ粏鑳炲嚭鏉ャ傛垜鎵撲簡闀囬潤鍓傦紝涓嶉啋浜轟簨錛屼絾鏄垜鑰佸﹩鍦ㄥ満銆傚ス鍚庢潵璺熸垜璇達紝褰撳尰鐢熶滑鐢ㄦ樉寰暅鐪嬭繃閭ｄ簺緇嗚優鍚庯紝浠栦滑閮藉摥浜嗭紝鍥犱負閭ｆ槸闈炲父灝戣鐨勪竴縐嶈儼鑴忕檶錛屽彲浠ョ敤鎵嬫湳娌誨ソ銆傛墍浠ユ垜鎺ュ彈浜嗘墜鏈紝搴峰浜嗐?nbsp;
榪欐槸鎴戞渶鎺ヨ繎姝諱骸鐨勬椂鍊欙紝鎴戝笇鏈涢偅浼氱戶緇槸鏈潵鍑犲崄騫村唴鏈鎺ヨ繎鐨勪竴嬈°傜粡鍘嗘浜嬪悗錛屾垜鍙互姣斾箣鍓嶆浜″彧鏄娊璞℃蹇墊椂瑕佹洿鑲畾鍛婅瘔浣犱滑涓嬮潰榪欎簺錛?nbsp;
娌℃湁浜烘兂姝匯傚嵆浣塊偅浜涙兂涓婂ぉ鍫傜殑浜猴紝涔熸兂媧葷潃涓婂ぉ鍫傘備絾鏄浜℃槸鎴戜滑鍏辨湁鐨勭洰鐨勫湴錛屾病鏈変漢閫冨緱榪囥傝繖鏄敞瀹氱殑錛屽洜涓烘浜＄畝鐩村氨鏄敓鍛戒腑鏈媯掔殑鍙戞槑錛屾槸鐢熷懡鍙樺寲鐨勫獟浠嬶紝閫佽蛋鑰佷漢浠紝緇欐柊鐢熶唬鐣欎笅絀洪棿銆傜幇鍦ㄤ綘浠槸鏂扮敓浠ｏ紝浣嗘槸涓嶄箙鐨勫皢鏉ワ紝浣犱滑涔熶細閫愭笎鍙樿侊紝琚佸嚭浜虹敓鐨勮垶鍙般傛姳姝夎寰楄繖涔堟垙鍓у寲錛屼絾鏄繖鏄湡鐨勩?nbsp;
浣犱滑鐨勬椂闂存湁闄愶紝鎵浠ヤ笉瑕佹氮璐規椂闂存椿鍦ㄥ埆浜虹殑鐢熸椿閲屻備笉瑕佽淇℃潯鎵鎯戯紞鐩蹭粠淇℃潯灝辨槸媧誨湪鍒漢鎬濊冪粨鏋滈噷銆備笉瑕佽鍒漢鐨勬剰瑙佹飯娌′簡浣犲唴鍦ㄧ殑蹇冨０銆傛渶閲嶈鐨勶紝鎷ユ湁璺熼殢鍐呭績涓庣洿瑙夌殑鍕囨皵錛屼綘鐨勫唴蹇冧笌鐩磋澶氬皯宸茬粡鐭ラ亾浣犵湡姝ｆ兂瑕佹垚涓轟粈涔堟牱鐨勪漢銆備換浣曞叾瀹冧簨鐗╅兘鏄瑕佺殑銆?nbsp;
鍦ㄦ垜騫磋交鏃訛紝鏈夋湰紲炲鐨勬潅蹇楀彨鍋?Whole Earth Catalog錛屽綋騫存垜浠緢榪瘋繖鏈潅蹇椼傞偅鏄竴浣嶄綇鍦ㄧ榪欎笉榪滅殑Menlo Park鐨凷tewart Brand鍙戣鐨勶紝浠栨妸鏉傚織鍔炲緱寰堟湁璇楁剰銆傞偅鏄?960騫翠唬鏈湡錛屼釜浜鴻綆楁満璺熸涓婂嚭鐗堣繕娌″彂鏄庯紝鎵鏈夊唴瀹歸兘鏄墦瀛楁満銆佸壀鍒璺熸媿绔嬪緱鐩告満鍋氬嚭鏉ョ殑銆?nbsp;
鏉傚織鍐呭鏈夌偣鍍忓嵃鍦ㄧ焊涓婄殑Google錛屽湪Google鍑虹幇涔嬪墠35騫村氨鏈変簡錛氱悊鎯沖寲錛屽厖婊℃柊濂囧伐鍏蜂笌紲炲鐨勬敞璁般係tewart璺熶粬鐨勫嚭鐗堝洟闃熷嚭浜嗗ソ鍑犳湡Whole Earth Catalog錛岀劧鍚庡嚭浜嗗仠鍒婂彿銆傚綋鏃舵槸1970騫翠唬涓湡錛屾垜姝ｆ槸浣犱滑鐜板湪榪欎釜騫撮緞鐨勬椂鍊欍傚湪鍋滃垔鍙風殑灝佸簳錛屾湁寮犳棭鏅ㄤ埂闂村皬璺殑鐓х墖錛岄偅縐嶄綘鍘葷埇灞辨椂浼氱粡榪囩殑涔￠棿灝忚礬銆?nbsp;
鍦ㄧ収鐗囦笅鏈夎灝忓瓧錛?nbsp;
姹傜煡鑻ラゥ錛岃櫄蹇冭嫢鎰氥?nbsp;
閭ｆ槸浠栦滑浜茬瑪鍐欎笅鐨勫憡鍒鎭紝鎴戞繪槸浠ユ鑷銆?nbsp;
褰撲綘浠瘯涓氾紝灞曞紑鏂扮敓媧伙紝鎴戜篃浠ユ鏈熻浣犱滑銆?nbsp;
姹傜煡鑻ラゥ錛岃櫄蹇冭嫢鎰氥?nbsp;
闈炲父璋㈣阿澶у銆?nbsp;
Stanford Report, June 14, 2005
'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says
I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something 鈥?your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky 鈥?I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation 鈥?the Macintosh 鈥?a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me 鈥?I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything 鈥?all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma 鈥?which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.
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